


Solo Metà

by newamsterdam



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hetalia Kink Meme, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newamsterdam/pseuds/newamsterdam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days for Romano are bad days, but no one sees that quite the way Veneziano does. (De-anon for a kink meme request asking for Veneziano topping Romano.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solo Metà

Some days for Romano are bad days. Veneziano has tried to explain this to others—to Germany, once, and to Spain many times. But the two of them, and every other country they know, don’t really understand. They can’t tell the difference between Romano’s surface anger, his comfortable, biting ire, and the times when he goes quiet and pensive and _sad_. At least, not the same way Veneziano can. 

It’s on days like this, when their boss directs all his questions and instructions towards Veneziano and barely acknowledges that Romano exists. When Romano leaves the meeting not in a huff, but with quiet, defiant steps. He doesn’t bother to straighten his tie or say goodbye, just walks straight past everyone and out onto the streets. 

Veneziano gives him a few minutes, finishes things up with the boss and doesn’t grace him with a parting smile. His boss calls him Italy without qualification, and Veneziano pretends not to have heard until the man realizes, corrects. “Ciao, Veneziano.” 

It’s only then that Veneziano nods, and smiles, and leaves with quiet calm to trace Romano’s steps.

He finds his brother, like he always does, at Trevi Square. Romano sits on the ledge of the fountain and pointedly ignores the glares of tourists trying to take pictures around him. (And isn’t that funny, Veneziano thinks, that these foreigners want so desperately to capture the beauty of Rome, but they don’t see it when they’re staring right at him. Or maybe it isn’t funny, just sadly indicative of Romano’s life.) 

Romano stares out at the passersby, his gaze lingering on the native Italians. It’s as if he’s trying to remember that this place, these people, truly belong to him. Veneziano looks at the blank expression on his brother’s face and wants to cry. 

But instead he slips on a smile and takes a seat next to his brother by the fountain, shadowed by the colossal stone Neptune. He leans softly against Romano’s shoulder, and doesn’t know if it’s a good sign or a bad one that his brother doesn’t push him away. 

They sit together, quietly, past sunset. Veneziano knows that no one else would believe the brothers capable of this—sitting in quiet solitude for so long, not yelling or laughing or running away. But in some ways, Veneziano is glad for that. This is private, between the two of them. He doesn’t want anyone else to know, to see the cracks in Romano’s armor. 

Eventually, Romano rises achingly to his feet. Veneziano startles, almost topples over as the weight he’d been leaning against disappears. Romano leans in, flicks him on the forehead with two fingers. 

“C’mon, you little idiot,” he says with no real anger, “Let’s go home.” 

\--

Romano is quiet through dinner and doesn’t complain about doing the dishes. Veneziano lets this slide, pretends to busy himself elsewhere in the house and doesn’t ask Romano to explain himself. It’s only later, when Romano heads up to bed, that Veneziano follows. 

Romano senses his presence, turns when he’s only halfway out of his shirt. He rolls his eyes and gives Veneziano a tired, quiet little sigh. “What is it?” 

Veneziano doesn’t answer, just crosses the room in quick strides and brings both his hands up against Romano’s cheeks. He senses the heat rising under his brother’s skin, the blush that always appears when the older Italy is under scrutiny. But Veneziano holds fast, and refuses to let Romano look away. 

“What?” Romano snaps, eventually. His eyebrows narrow dangerously over amber eyes. It’s when his lips curl, into a snarl, that Veneziano leans in and kisses him. 

Romano doesn’t melt instantly. His hands come up against Veneziano’s chest like he’s about to push his brother away, but instead his fingers end up tangled in Veneziano’s shirt. Veneziano hums against his lips, lets one hand drift from Romano’s cheek down to his collarbone, thumb rubbing softly against his brother’s skin. 

The tension doesn’t leave Romano’s body, but he lets Veneziano walk the two of them backwards until the back of his legs hits the edge of his bed. Veneziano kisses him again, slowly and languidly, tongue dancing over his teeth. Then Veneziano pulls away from him, hands returning only to ease the shirt off Romano’s shoulders. When Romano is bare-chested and flushed, Veneziano places his hands against his brother’s shoulders and shoves him backwards onto the bed. 

“What the fuck,” Romano screeches, but he’s out of breath and the words come out wispily. Veneziano flashes him a smile and tugs at his own shirt, buttons falling away one by one. He kicks off his pants and underwear and shuffles onto the bed beside Romano, following when the other tries to shift away. 

Veneziano turns onto his side, presses his lips to the nape of Romano’s neck. He can feel the shiver run through Romano’s body, and brings his hands up to ease down Romano’s sides with gentle, sure pressure. Romano twitches, but doesn’t try to pull away. 

“Hey,” Veneziano says softly, pulling Romano closer until their bodies line up perfectly and there’s no space between them. “Hey, brother.” 

He keeps going, entreating Romano to speak to him with quiet repetition. 

Finally, without turning to face him, Romano says, “What? I can fucking hear you, just say whatever it is already!” 

Veneziano shift until he can roll easily over Romano’s body, his hands against Romano’s shoulders as he straddles him. On his back, Romano looks up with wide and uncertain eyes. 

“What is it?” he demands, even as he tries to glance away. 

That won’t do, so Veneziano dips his head to kiss Romano’s forehead, both his cheeks and edge of his chin. Then, he kisses Romano’s lips, tugging them between his teeth until finally, finally, Romano looks up at him. 

“Ti desidero,” Veneziano says, lets his voice fill with all of his usual enthusiasm. ( _I want you._ )

Romano flushes again, biting down on his lower lip. But he doesn’t look away, just nods. “Yeah, okay,” he says finally. 

Veneziano grins his pleasure, pushes forward and kisses every part of Romano he can get to—his throat and his collarbone, the spot over his heart. Romano lies back with a sigh, limbs twitching and skin shivering under Veneziano’s ministrations. 

Kissing is an art they’ve both perfected, with each other and others. So it comes as no surprise that just the touch of Veneziano’s lips has Romano coming undone, fingers clenching against soft sheets as he throws back his head and arches his throat. Veneziano takes that as an invitation, bites down on soft skin until he’s left a mark, soothing over the spot with his tongue as he pulls away. 

“Romano,” he says softly, again. 

Romano opens his eyes, huffs. “Why do you keep talking?” he demands. 

“Per te farei di tutto,” Veneziano says, sincerely. ( _I’d do anything for you._ )

Romano smiles wanly, ironically. “So?” he says lazily. “Do something, then.” 

Veneziano presses kisses against Romano’s chest, sure that Romano can feel the smile on his lips as he does so. Romano sighs and moans as Veneziano edges lower and lower—to his stomach, his thighs. He licks gently along the inside of Romano’s thighs, and the other man sucks in his breath as his body goes taunt. 

Veneziano knows Romano’s bedroom as well as his own, so when he pulls away to reach under the bed it only takes him a minute to find the lube and reclaim his spot between Romano’s now open, waiting legs. Veneziano takes Romano in hand with slick fingers, working Romano’s cock with practiced, precise pressure. 

“Oh, god,” Romano breathes, eyes screwing shut again as he arches into Veneziano’s touch. 

“Romano,” Veneziano chides him. “Look at me.” 

Romano obeys, though his brow furrows. “What?” he asks, voice squeaking as Veneziano gives his cock a particularly satisfying tug. 

“Sei importante per me,” Veneziano says. ( _You are important to me._ ) 

Romano bites down on his lip, turns his head away as his auburn hair fans out against the pillow. His eyes screw shut, and Veneziano has to lean down very close. 

“Romano? Did you hear me?” His breath ghosts across Romano’s skin even as Veneziano keeps working his cock, making Romano’s legs tense and twitch. “Romano?” 

“I know,” Romano breathes out. When Veneziano thumbs over the head of his cock and kisses Romano’s cheek, he comes with a shaky gasp, saying, “I know, Veneziano. God, I know, I do.” 

Veneziano nods, lets go of Romano and brings his hand to his lips, gently licking himself clean as Romano watches in the dreamy haze that comes post-orgasm. Now, finally, Romano reaches up, hands latching onto Veneziano as he pulls him close, kisses him and steals his own taste off Veneziano’s lips. 

When Romano finally lets him go, falling back and breathing heavily, Veneziano stays on his knees above him, looking down. 

“Non voglio perderti,” Veneziano breathes out. ( _I don’t want to lose you._ )

Romano swallows, shakes his head. “You won’t,” he promises. He pulls Veneziano close again, works his hips against Veneziano’s erection and trails his fingers over the notches of Veneziano’s spine. Veneziano keeps murmuring sweet words into his ear, his accent different than Romano’s own but the language is shared between them, as sure as the blood in their veins. 

Romano eases his legs up in invitation, and Veneziano pulls back, reclaims the lube from the sheets and slicks up his fingers once more. He doesn’t take his eyes from Romano’s for even a moment as he eases one finger into the other’s warm, inviting heat. Romano sighs and squirms, breathing in a hitching, erratic rhythm as Veneziano works him open, adding another finger and then a third. 

“Per favore ricordati di me,” Veneziano says, easing deeper inside. ( _Please think of me._ )

Romano’s voice hitches on a laugh. “How the fuck am I supposed to think of anyone else?”

Veneziano favors him with his brightest, most sunshine-filled grin. Then the younger Italian bites down on his own lips as he slicks up his cock and eases into Romano, slowly and deliberately, his hands ghosting down the soft skin of Romano’s stomach. 

“Oh,” Romano breathes out, eyes going wide and hazy once more. Veneziano kisses the space between them as he braces one hand on Romano’s hip to hold him steady. 

“Sei la cosa più cara che ho,” Veneziao confesses, as he begins to move in earnest. ( _You are the dearest thing I have._ )

Romano shakes his head, jaw clenched like he’s afraid of what he might say. Veneziano trails the fingers of his free hand along Romano’s cheek, repeats himself quietly and firmly, punctuating the words with each thrust into Romano’s body. 

He keeps at it for long minutes, targeting Romano’s prostate and watching as Romano tips his head back and gasps, calling Veneziano’s name. Veneziano himself is close, surrounded by the tangible reminder of his brother’s very existence, thinking there’s nothing more sure than this in the world. North and South, Veneziano and Romano, together and joined for each of these moments that seems to last many lifetimes. 

Veneziano comes in a delayed moment, his breath catching in his throat as he releases inside Romano and clutches the other man with sudden force. As soon as he reclaims enough air, he kisses Romano’s stomach.

“Sei tutto per me.” ( _You are everything to me_.)

Romano lets out a noise like a dry sob, mouth slack and accepting as Veneziano crawls up his body to kiss his lips once more. Veneziano eases out of him and wraps Romano in his arms, chin resting against Romano’s shoulder as he continues to murmur endearments. 

It’s several minutes later when he realizes Romano isn’t saying anything back. 

“Romano?” Veneziano asks, tentatively.

He can feel Romano’s sharp intake of breath, but it’s forgotten as Romano mumbles out, softly, begrudgingly, “Senza di te la vita è un inferno.” ( _Without you, life is hell._ )

Veneziano disagrees—he thinks that, if anyone ever bothered to pay attention, they would all love Romano. They would love his bright eyes and biting humor, his appreciation for art and wine and good food. His passion and caring, how every little moment affects him deep down in the reaches of his soul. If anything, Veneziano needs Romano, not the other way around. 

But he also knows that on bad days, Romano needs reminders. So he places his lips very close to the shell of Romano’s ear and kisses the soft skin there. 

“Senza di te sono solo metà.” ( _Without you, I’m only half._ )

**Author's Note:**

> I took all of the Italian phrases for this fic from [this article](http://italian.about.com/od/vocabulary/a/say-i-love-you-in-italian.htm), and so I apologize for any inaccuracies. I just liked the idea of the brothers sharing so many different expressions of love with one another. 
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://hetalia-kink.dreamwidth.org/84399.html?thread=512716975#cmt512716975) on the kink meme, for a request asking for Veneziano topping Romano. Since I am apparently incapable of writing sex for sex's sake, it became the emotional mess you see above.
> 
> (Also, as a headcanon note: I don't really think that Veneziano is more inherently "Italy" than Romano; I think they really do represent equal halves of the nation. So I don't think that Romano is in danger of fading away or disappearing, but rather his self-esteem and worth are tied to others' perceptions of him versus Veneziano. I've always thought that, in terms of "work," Venziano deals more with foreign affairs while Romano handles domestic ones; that's why other countries are more likely to call Veneziano "Italy.")


End file.
